HIKED ON August 31, 2024
I dimly remember climbing this mountain before.  Maybe it was during Outing Club in high school.  I was not the most active in that group.  I had theater, sports, and other interests. Anyway this was the sort of thing our advisor "Uncle Don" would have liked.  It's all cables and trust falls for a while.  There are places on the loop where your heart does race a bit.  I used both hands so there are no pictures. It is also textbook youth group material, which is another candidate for who I went with. 

Anyway, that was then and I am grateful that I had grown-ups to plan these things. Adults are always concerned about making sure that kids can be anything they want and conquer any challenge.  The problem is, even when plagued with self-doubt as a teen (and I was), it feels a touch wasted on me.  Adults need these reminders, too. Maybe the church should have its own Outing Club.

We did this climb as an upside-down lollipop loop from the parking lot at Grafton Notch State Park.  It was about 7 miles long.  The elevation gain was around 2,800 feet.  That is plenty.  Old Speck is part of the White Mountains.  We forget that geographical features are not beholden to political lines.  Usually we think of the Whites as a New Hampshire thing, but this is in Maine...just. When we got to the top--having completed all the New Hampshire 48 and half of the smaller NH52 With-A-View mountains, we would have known just where we were...if we weren't socked in.

Oh yes...the cables.  At the beginning of the hike one is presented with a choice.  You can take the steep-but-not-scary way or you can scale, slowly, a series of cliffs.  There are cables to hold on to, but footing is less than ideal.  We went up the hard way and then down the easier way.  Our reasons were strategic.  The cables kept us thinking about footing rather than the pain in our lungs from exerting ourselves.  On the way down we just wanted to be done.

Anyway, those cables hit you right away. Then there is some sliding around. Then the more conventional climbing picks up.  This is a beautiful mountain that promises a fire tower view.  We, however, were battling weather all day.  A little inclemency creates some lovely effects, though.  We enjoyed that on the way up.

Parts of this hike are on the Appalachian Trail, which is always nice. The AT is the east coast interstate of hiking but the "traffic"--in the form of intense multi-day hikers--helps to break the monotony.  You have to keep an eye out for them since many are in their own world chewing up the miles, but they are a key part of the outdoors community.  After the white-blazed AT we ducked off on a blue blazed trail for the final quarter mile to the top.  There we met a couple on a date.  We left them more or less alone.

​ No doubt emboldened by the cables we climbed the wet ladder to the foggy top. We then ate our snacks. Finally we turned back to civilization.  Near the top and along the stroll back, we saw some stealth(ish) camping sights.  On a dry day it must be a beautiful place to wake up.

It takes little effort to type this but it took us quite a while to get up and down.  It also was a bit of a drive both ways.  Even in the Whites, once you are outside of NH the infrastructure lessens.  This is by design.  The convenience of the New Hampshire hiker commute is a double edged sword.  On the one hand, it creates an incredible opportunity for tired and nature-starved people to the south.  On the other it means crowds in some places along with pollution and trail degradation in others.  Most of the Maine hikes on this list are a road trip as well. That has its challenges and benefits, too.

I wish I could remember the first time I went up.  I bet we had a view.  Still, it was good to do it again.  No doubt it won't be the last time.

HIKED ON August 27, 2024
It looks like I have some catching up to do!  At least I would like to do so.  When I was writing the previous post about Mount Abraham, VT, I realized that we hadn't climbed a new 4,000 footer in slightly over a year.  What a year it had been.  We have been busy with life.  It feels like almost everything has changed since that time.  Of course there was hiking.  I completed the Mid-State Trail and hit some other smaller mountains when I could.  However, what with the change of jobs, Al's doctoral work, and the big move to Western Massachusetts, the ME 4,000 footers just didn't get properly logged.  I think I would like to remedy that...to the best of my ability.

So the first hike on that Maine vacation in 2024 was up Saddleback Mountain then along a picturesque ridge to its companion peak, Mount Horn.  The total distance was about 6.5 miles.  The elevation gain was around 2,700 feet. I had to go back to All Trails to figure that out.  I have to say that my average elevation-per-hike has dipped quite a bit in the intervening year!

The name of these two mountains--perhaps not surprisingly--is from the shape of the land between them.  "saddle" is the general term for the sloping ridge between two peaks.  In this case it takes some doing but with a broad-minded acceptance of the vagaries of nature one can imagine an actual saddle, with the "back" at Saddleback and the "horn" of the saddle at...well...you know...the horn.

These mountains are home to the Saddleback Mountain ski resort.  I remember their advertisements when when I was a kid.  They leaned into a southwestern theme for a while and the whole place had a 1970's Marlboro-man-with-skis vibe.  They have reinvented themselves a few times since then and actually closed for a while.  Now it seems to be going fine.

This is significant (not the '70's part) because the generally best way to tackle these mountains is to start at the lodge and climb straight up one of the ski trails.  We have done this before, notably on Wildcat D. It is brutal in many ways.  The trails are built to go fast down which means the climb does not relent.  That said, there are views the whole way and that is something special.

On this particular day we arrived in the fog but decided to make a go if it anyway. Sometimes we get into a "views optional" state of mind, particularly when we have had to stay over somewhere.  I am glad we did it. The clouds lifted over the first hour or so.  Then the whole trail stretched before us.  Different ski mountains have different relationships with hikers.  Some do not want hiking there at all.  Others--like Wildcat--designate a particular trail.  In this case the company maintained a "regular" trail that meandered its way up.  The only thing that made it different from a normal route was that there were no trees around us and plenty of ski equipment!

That situation ended at the lift mechanism and a small lodge.  Honestly, if someone bought a lift ticket for me, I could see riding up in winter just to hang out. As it was, everything was closed and a small crew was clearing brush in preparation for the season still months away.  From the complex of buildings, it was little trouble to find an actual "trail" to the top that wandered across the ridge to the peak of Saddleback. 

After Saddleback I was inclined to head back down.  This happens to us frequently!  Allison, caught up in the climb, is ready to keep going. I am usually tired and almost always cautious, so I tend to want to stick to the less ambitious plan.  On this day Al convinced me to move on so we did.  On other days--particularly on longer hikes where our resources are failing--I prevail.  It is a good system. In this case it meant having the Horn basically to ourselves.

After that there isn't much to say.  The walk to the Horn and back was definitely not smooth.  There are some tricky bits and crevices.  Also, I think I remember at least one false peak.  That said, the hike both out and back had near-constant views of a relatively remote part of Maine.  Did the views even wear a bit on our slog back down the ski trail?  Yes, of course.  Still...it was a fabulous day.

Hiked On August 28, 2025

Bible nerds will know that the prophet and patriarch Abraham originally went by "Abram" until God changed his name in Genesis 17.  The meanings of the two names are very similar.  Abram means something along the lines of "exalted father" in Akkadian.  Abraham--at least according to Genesis--raises the bar to "father of many nations".  Whichever name you choose, he is traditionally seen as one of the major patriarchs of the western religious tradition and plays a role in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. 

For our purposes today it is worth noting that people like to name things after him. They sometimes use one, the other, or both names when referring to those things. Mount Abram in Oxford County, Maine, for example, is a small ski mountain...but sometimes the mountain--separate from skiing--is referred to by its legal name...Abraham.  That can be a bit confusing since there is another Mount Abraham in Franklin County, Maine (Mount Abram Township, actually)...which is over 4,000 feet. 

​Mount Abraham in Vermont is a 4,000 footer that looks down on Sugarbush Ski Resort...which is a bit closer to Mount Ellen.  Sometimes it, too, is called Mount Abram. It keeps you on your toes when telling people where you went.

​Anyway...we hiked the Vermont Abraham in our quest to complete the "New England 67" 4,000 footers. We have already done the NH48. We have chipped away at the ME14, completing 4. Vermont has only 5 mountains that fit the list requirements. Southern New England has none, though their (our) mountains can be both pretty and challenging. With our immediately previous hike of "Old Speck" in Maine a full year in the past (August 31, 2024) and Abraham in the books, we only have 14 more to go!

The trailhead--at least for this hike along the Long Trail--was relatively high up, making Abraham an easy--in the context of 4,000 footers--attempt. The parking lot was slightly higher up than usual, on the ridge that is home to most of the Vermont mountains on the list. The Green Mountains run roughly north-south forming the spine of the state in a long series of connected peaks.  We weren't at the top by any means! However, In Maine and New Hampshire it always felt like you were beginning at the "bottom" of the mountain. This felt like a head start.

The one sobering note: there were a number of signs at the lot warning us of possible theft.  Regular hikers know the risk at popular trail heads. It isn't just your wallet they are looking for.  They also want chunks of your car. Hikers should plan accordingly, if only mentally...

One advantage of our starting point was that it only took about 30 minutes to begin to feel that mountaintop environment.  We were encouraged by the seemingly immediate rewards of a steady breeze and glimpses of the valley below. We had taken our two "training hikes" up Williams and Monadnock.  This was harder than Monadnock but comparable to Williams. The only major challenge was a scramble near the top along with stretches of bare rock that could be slippery if it ever rained.

Along the way we met a number of other hikers.  Most of them were very willing to pass the time. It had been a moment since any of us had experienced this brilliant a hiking day.  The heat seemed to have broken for the season. Also, with the threat (or, given the drought, the promise) of rain the next day most of us had made some adjustments to climb on a Thursday of all things.  We, in fact, had moved our youngest into his dorm room the day before and had planned a slow drive to our motel for a Friday adventure.  In the end, though, we got up early like we used to during our NH48 phase.  Thankfully the trek was not super-difficult.

On the trail there are a number of warnings about the fragility of the alpine ecosystem. This is not a surprise, of course. Outdoor sports are growing and Vermont--like New Hampshire and Upstate New York--are easily reached from population centers just to the south. I was a bit surprised to see the amount of string they used to guide us to the trail, but I didn't mind.  A step off may not seem like a big deal...but it is if you are what is being stepped on.

This is a hike I would do again. At 5 miles and 1,700 feet of gain, it was doable and a workout. When we climb we have different desires.  There is the draw of a physical and mental challenge.  There is also an aesthetic pull.  Standing at the top looking over Vermont and New York was inspiring in and of itself. The mountains were unfamiliar, which is different from the other places we explore.  That is part of the fun, too.

The next day we had hoped to climb Camel's Hump or Ellen.  Instead, thanks to the rain, we did some sightseeing and ended up at the Shelburne Museum outside of Burlington.  On another day we might have hiked in foul weather, but sometimes it is OK to do other things.  The museum was great.  Downtown Burlington was fun. So were the few short days of our summer vacation. 

A couple of weeks ago I took some vacation time and went to help my middle son move out of his apartment in Amherst, Massachusetts.  After the furniture was gone, my job--just as my father had done for me--was to sweep all the remaining detritus into the center of each room, remove the change and other small keepsakes, then sweep it again and again until the pile was gone.  It was just short of three years since we moved him in.  He and his girlfriend were trying out living together while they wrapped up their college courses.  Three years later, it is time to move on. 

They are dividing their time between her mom's house back in MetroWest and our house in Farley.  There are still a couple of rooms worth of furniture on the porch.  In fact, I had to collect some of it from the lawn during yesterday's tornado warning.  Life feels like a tornado sometimes. I worry about them and about all of us as we watch the dismantling of what our society once was.  Every day is a hard choice.

Of course, transitions are part of life and we are all forced to be relatively mobile, or at least flexible.  I looked back at what I was writing in 2022 when we moved the boy in.  His big brother was on the AT, finding his own path after COVID. His younger brother was in high school, finally "in person". My posts back then were already filled with questions about the future of The Eliot Church where I served. Maybe not all of the membership understood that, but the signs were there. We could feel the changes in our bones then.  We feel it now, too.

In the American psyche there is this idea of a "home town" where people live their whole lives and where things never change. It isn't real. Maybe a few people manage to stay in the same place, but...they themselves change. They adapt to stay there, even if they don't think they do.  The place they call home changes, too. Heraclitus was right.  We don't step in the same river more than once.  Life rolls on. We can acknowledge the change. We can prepare for it. It is stressful, of course. That said, there are rewards that come with traveling downstream.

These days, though, so many Americans prefer denial. These folks tell stories that demonize the seeming "new thing" and that celebrates a comic-book past. Many of the problems of today are because of this denial. Living a life of openness is the only real way to go.

A couple of days after moving my middle child out of his apartment in Amherst, we moved our youngest to campus.  He transferred from UMaine to UMass this year seeking a better fit. This year the commute from home was much shorter. He also kept his job at a grocery store near his dorm. However...it is still a change. The flow of life is teaching him, too.

We are nesting a bit. This week we went to the Franklin County Fair in Greenfield.  The fairgrounds are just up the hill from 2nd Church where I serve. I love fairs.  I have been going to them all my life.  Each one is unique, but so much of it was familiar, too. I was never a midway person. I spent my time in the agricultural section like I always have. The county fair draws all kinds of people who these days would never rub shoulders otherwise. We don't have many places like it. Do we talk to each other? Not really.  However, we do have to see each other at least...

Anyway, it was a step toward making space in a new place. All this moving and changing over the past three years has been a lot. It would be good to get settled a bit in this landscape we know through hiking, but that we have never inhabited for an extended period of time. 

​The fall has arrived and so we mark the time. Yes, technically one day is like the next and nothing really begins or ends exactly. School is in, but it only ended recently.  The new church year begins on September 14, but we were in church on September 7th. Still...we have to stop and take stock sometimes. These "beginnings" in the ongoing and interconnected stream of life are like the mountains we climb. At the top is the view of where we have been and where we have yet to go. The pause is worth it, I think. Then...we move on. 

After church yesterday we went to see a new friend sing at a local brewery.  It has already become a "local" for us. We humans are good at building patterns. Some of those patterns can help us make a home in a new place, or accept new people to our old places. We stay connected through the story of how we got there and where we are going. These are good instincts to have. May we always operate in this way when we can, fighting back the fear of the new. If we do, we can see what glorious opportunities await.